I grew up with a grandma who crocheted. We each had Afghans gifted to us. The colors of the yarn were handpicked, and the patterns were all unique. Each of us kids got a gift that took hours of labor and love. So, at night when I’m cold I throw my Afghan over me and wrap it around my legs. I remember her sitting in her tan living room swivel chair with the multiple colors of yarn around her, helping her unravel a new bundle of colorful yarn and wrapping it into a ball so it was easier for her to work with. All the while, the half-completed work of art rested across her lap and Richard Dawson kissed the female contestants on Family Feud in front of us. The room was oozing with love, laughter and yarn as she crocheted.
With as sweet of a picture as that is, God’s love was infinitely more prominent, and his skill was profoundly more complex when He crafted you and me.
“For we are God’s handiwork…”
Ephesians 2:10
